Fic: The Ripe Scent of Discalceation
Title: The Ripe Scent of Discalceation
Author: bribitribbit
Rating: G
Characters: MWPP, Sirius' combat boots
Word length: 582
Author notes: Discalceation, if you are wondering, is the act of pulling off one's shoes or sandals. I wrote this fic quite a while ago but hooray! I get to post here! So I might as well post. :D
Dearest Padfoot,
Your feet STINK. Please get them away from the vicinity of my nose, pronto.
Your dearest friend,
Prongs
***
Dearest Prongs,
I think what you are smelling is your upper lip.
Love the one who phileos you most,
Padfoot
***
Dear Padfoot,
PLEASE PUT YOUR SHOES ON.
Dying slowly from the strong stink of your feet,
Moony
***
Dear Moony,
I BOW NOT TO YOUR TYRANNICAL WAYS. POWER FOR THE PEOPLE. IF I WANT MY SHOES OFF, I WILL HAVE MY SHOES OFF. IT IS THE RIGHT OF EVERY HUMAN.
HELP HELP I'M BEING REPRESSED.
- Padfoot
P.S. A MAN WOULD BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE SMELL.
***
Padfoot,
Is it not the right of every human to…well, have the ability to use their nose? I am very quickly losing that capability. Thus, I beg of you to PUT YOUR SHOES BACK ON.
- Moony
***
Moony,
I will discalceate wherever I have an urge to discalceate, thank you very much.
- Padfoot
***
Padfoot,
Even rats aren't immune to smells like that, you know. What did you do, stick your feet in one of Snivellus's jars of pickled chicken livers?
- Wormtail
***
Dear Padfoot,
Told you.
- Prongs
***
Padfoot,
MY NOSE IS FALLING OFF.
- Wormtail
***
Wormtail,
And whose fault is that? NOT MINE. IT IS YOUR POORLY WELDED NOSE'S FAULT.
HELP HELP STILL BEING REPRESSED.
- Padfoot
***
Prongs,
I say we kick him out.
- Moony
***
Wormtail,
We're kicking Padfoot out. Mind helping us carry him?
- Prongs
***
Prongs and Moony,
I can see you plotting dastardly schemes over there together without me. And when one is plotting dastardly schemes without my help, it can only mean one thing. THOSE DASTARDLY SCHEMES ARE FOR ME. And while this is very flattering, I WILL NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR.
I also will not put my shoes on! I will not bow to your capitalism, nepotism, or totalitarianism! (I'm sure you are participating in at least one of those.) Nothing you can do will stop me! I will forever live my days as the Shoeless Wonder! Muhahaha!
- Padfoot
***
Prongs,
I've never heard a better idea!
- Wormtail
***
Padfoot,
I don't quite understand how you know the word discalceate but do not know the definition of either capitalism, nepotism, or totalitarianism.
- Moony
***
Moony,
It is because I am the Shoeless Wonder. Or perhaps I am just the Wonder. I am the Wonderful Wizard of Hogwarts!
- Padfoot
***
Padfoot,
I certainly wonder about you. And often.
- Moony
***
Padfoot,
This is your last chance. SHOES ON OR YOU WILL FACE THE WRATH OF THREE-FOURTHS THE MARAUDERS SCORNED.
Hoping you are well,
Prongs
***
Prongs,
REPRESSION REPRESSION REPRESSION. MY FEET HAVE A RIGHT TO SIT HERE IN ALL THEIR SMELLY GLORY AN-
***
"I do not think this is funny." Sirius is sitting outside the door of the sixth year boys' dormitories and he does not look happy at all. "I AM BEING REPRESSED."
The door opens and Sirius scrambles to his feet, but before he is able to get back into the dormitory, someone throws a pair of combat boots at his head. James calls, "It's 'I'm being oppressed', you idiot," and he shuts the door. The boots bounce to the floor, and Sirius slides back down the wall, crossing his arms and pouting profusely.
"REPRESSION, REPRESSION," he continues shouting at the door.
Author: bribitribbit
Rating: G
Characters: MWPP, Sirius' combat boots
Word length: 582
Author notes: Discalceation, if you are wondering, is the act of pulling off one's shoes or sandals. I wrote this fic quite a while ago but hooray! I get to post here! So I might as well post. :D
Dearest Padfoot,
Your feet STINK. Please get them away from the vicinity of my nose, pronto.
Your dearest friend,
Prongs
***
Dearest Prongs,
I think what you are smelling is your upper lip.
Love the one who phileos you most,
Padfoot
***
Dear Padfoot,
PLEASE PUT YOUR SHOES ON.
Dying slowly from the strong stink of your feet,
Moony
***
Dear Moony,
I BOW NOT TO YOUR TYRANNICAL WAYS. POWER FOR THE PEOPLE. IF I WANT MY SHOES OFF, I WILL HAVE MY SHOES OFF. IT IS THE RIGHT OF EVERY HUMAN.
HELP HELP I'M BEING REPRESSED.
- Padfoot
P.S. A MAN WOULD BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE SMELL.
***
Padfoot,
Is it not the right of every human to…well, have the ability to use their nose? I am very quickly losing that capability. Thus, I beg of you to PUT YOUR SHOES BACK ON.
- Moony
***
Moony,
I will discalceate wherever I have an urge to discalceate, thank you very much.
- Padfoot
***
Padfoot,
Even rats aren't immune to smells like that, you know. What did you do, stick your feet in one of Snivellus's jars of pickled chicken livers?
- Wormtail
***
Dear Padfoot,
Told you.
- Prongs
***
Padfoot,
MY NOSE IS FALLING OFF.
- Wormtail
***
Wormtail,
And whose fault is that? NOT MINE. IT IS YOUR POORLY WELDED NOSE'S FAULT.
HELP HELP STILL BEING REPRESSED.
- Padfoot
***
Prongs,
I say we kick him out.
- Moony
***
Wormtail,
We're kicking Padfoot out. Mind helping us carry him?
- Prongs
***
Prongs and Moony,
I can see you plotting dastardly schemes over there together without me. And when one is plotting dastardly schemes without my help, it can only mean one thing. THOSE DASTARDLY SCHEMES ARE FOR ME. And while this is very flattering, I WILL NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR.
I also will not put my shoes on! I will not bow to your capitalism, nepotism, or totalitarianism! (I'm sure you are participating in at least one of those.) Nothing you can do will stop me! I will forever live my days as the Shoeless Wonder! Muhahaha!
- Padfoot
***
Prongs,
I've never heard a better idea!
- Wormtail
***
Padfoot,
I don't quite understand how you know the word discalceate but do not know the definition of either capitalism, nepotism, or totalitarianism.
- Moony
***
Moony,
It is because I am the Shoeless Wonder. Or perhaps I am just the Wonder. I am the Wonderful Wizard of Hogwarts!
- Padfoot
***
Padfoot,
I certainly wonder about you. And often.
- Moony
***
Padfoot,
This is your last chance. SHOES ON OR YOU WILL FACE THE WRATH OF THREE-FOURTHS THE MARAUDERS SCORNED.
Hoping you are well,
Prongs
***
Prongs,
REPRESSION REPRESSION REPRESSION. MY FEET HAVE A RIGHT TO SIT HERE IN ALL THEIR SMELLY GLORY AN-
***
"I do not think this is funny." Sirius is sitting outside the door of the sixth year boys' dormitories and he does not look happy at all. "I AM BEING REPRESSED."
The door opens and Sirius scrambles to his feet, but before he is able to get back into the dormitory, someone throws a pair of combat boots at his head. James calls, "It's 'I'm being oppressed', you idiot," and he shuts the door. The boots bounce to the floor, and Sirius slides back down the wall, crossing his arms and pouting profusely.
"REPRESSION, REPRESSION," he continues shouting at the door.